


I Want to be What You Do Next Summer

by HannibalsChickenSoup



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: After season 1, M/M, Preller, i'm not a scientist, it's a little bittersweet at first, the littlest ship that could
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalsChickenSoup/pseuds/HannibalsChickenSoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Hannibal season 1 Jimmy Price takes a two week vacation, leaving Zeller alone to sort out his confused feelings for the man. Will an accidentally sent test message confession change them for the worse or the better?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written due to a sad lack of Zeller/Price fic by yours truly, Avery: Hannibals-chicken-soup.tumblr.com  
> Lovingly beta'ed and edited by Jimmy: greylightsopenwindows.tumblr.com

**Chapter 1**

            Brian Zeller didn’t know what to do with himself.  The BAU lab was too empty and quiet. He found his mind wandering to everything but the body on his table. The autopsy was fairly routine work: white male, in his late 20s, gunshot wound to the head, no defensive wounds. Zeller had carefully printed the man and photographed him. He had been easily identified with dental records. His stomach contents were some coffee and a small bit of undigested egg. The man had been shot at breakfast by his girlfriend. Zeller only had to get all the reports filed before the trial in a few days. The girlfriend had all but confessed to the crime, claiming she had just been tired of the man’s cheating. He went through the motions and sewed the body up by habit.

            Zeller noticed the partial print on the man’s cheek as he was finishing the last stitches on the chest cavity. Price would have just loved that were he at work that day. Zeller wondered what cocky quip his colleague would have had about the print and he knew the quiet of the lab was getting to him. Suddenly he wished he wasn’t alone, that anyone was there. He knew he was lonely when he even wished Crawford was there brooding over him about picking up the pace or about how their work wasn’t a laughing matter. Crawford had always taken some offense with the gallows humor around the BAU, until recently he had always turned a bit of a blind eye to it. The events surrounded Will Graham seemed to cause Crawford to have no room for humor in his presence. Jack was busy in court, leaving Zeller free to joke, but with no one around to share his jokes they just seemed pointless. He busied himself with lifting the partial from the victim’s cheek. They had enough evidence without it, but with it the girlfriend may not get off on a technicality. Plus he was sure Price would want to see the print when he returned from his time off.  Zeller’s every motion echoed through the otherwise empty lab.

            Beverly was home with a nasty flu. Of course she had presented herself at the lab this morning as usual but Zeller could instantly see she was in no condition to work through the day. She looked pale and sweaty and when he touched his fingers to her forehead she was burning hot. He had kept silent about it and Beverly went about her work, pulling hair from the victim’s clothing. She was preparing the samples while Zeller worked on his autopsy. He heard her breathe hitch and in turned to look at her. Her coloring was green and she looked like holding her breath was all she could do not to vomit.

“Beverly, it’s hard enough to focus on this without worrying when you are going to vomit all over evidence. Go home! Get some rest! Come back when you feel better!” he insisted.  Despite her protests that with Price on vacation he would need her to stay and assist, he eventually forced her home to rest. He insisted that he could handle anything that came through the lab, but that hadn’t stopped her from texting him throughout the day. After the fifth set of texts, He ordered her to rest and silenced his phone, leaving the lab unearthly quiet.

            Zeller focused on the sound of his breathing as he finished running Beverly’s tissue samples and the partial fingerprint through the system. The work was tedious and his mind wandered to his last conversation with Price before the older man left for his vacation in the Greek Isles.

            “I need a break from this whole thing, Z.  Part of me always wondered when Graham would break but I never imagined we would be processing evidence while he is locked in the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I guess that’s what makes someone like him different from people like me. I see all this death and crime but I still mostly see good in people. He doesn’t anymore, does he?”

            “I really can’t say. I guess those answers will come in his trial.”

            “All I know is the beautiful views of the Greek Isles can’t come soon enough. T-minus 12 hours until my plane takes off,” Price smiled.

            “Keep rubbing it in why don’t you,” Zeller snipes pretending to be more annoyed then he is.

            “Oh I’ll keep rubbing it. I’ll rub my toes in the sand just for you, Z. I’ll walk barefoot in the cool waters. Think you’ll feel it here in the lab?”

            “Fuck you, Price.”

            “Testy, testy. Someone a little jealous that I’ll be spending the next two weeks with all the beauty the Greeks isles have to offer?”

            “As if I’d be jealous of you,” Zeller chuckles.

            “I meant jealous that it’s not you I’m calling beautiful and spending two weeks with. Gonna miss me, Z?”

            “Now why would I ever miss your smart mouth, Jimmy?”

            Zeller came out of his memories realizing that now only a few days later, he did in fact miss the grumpy older man.  He wished Price’s tenor voice was echoing through the lab right now, wished he heard that quick intake of breath followed by the “Ha!” that meant Price had found something no one else had, something to break this case. Mostly he wished the older man was here to tease.

            He cursed himself for the feeling that was developing in the pit of his stomach; he didn’t really miss people often. He never let himself get close enough to anyone to feel that strongly. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since his high school girlfriend.  They had dated for five years starting freshman year of high school. Yet when he left for college he quickly realized he didn’t miss her or need her as much as she did him.  Somehow, no matter how hard he tried to hide his lacking of feeling, she sensed the change. They only lasted through his freshman year of college. When he came home in the summer, she ended the relationship after a nice dinner date. They had sex one last time and Zeller felt nothing. When it was over, she cried.

Since then he’d had a list of short terms relationships that never seemed to last more than a handful of months. Of course there were also a fair few flings and one night stands which never left him feeling anything, not even sexually fulfilled. Thinking of his last fling left a sour taste in his mouth. Used for information by that viper Freddie Lounds, he couldn’t believe he let sex turn him into a leak, betraying the FBI. Sure maybe he had been right about Will Graham in the end but that still didn’t make his actions right. It was the most shameful action in his professional career and he has been living like a saint since.  He was burying himself in work in penance for his actions with Freddie.

The arrangement worked out well for him considering he’s a workaholic and only ever felt a longing pull toward work. Yet here he was at work feeling a longing pull toward his absent coworker, a longing he thought he wouldn’t feel. On top of that, this was a longing he really shouldn’t feel. Not only was Jimmy Price his colleague, he was 18 years his senior, and he was a man.

            Zeller tried to shake his thoughts clear, tried to busy himself with results and lab reports but his mind kept wondering what snarky thing Price would say about this or that piece of evidence. The more Zeller thought of the older man’s tenor voice, the more he pictured Price’s soft lips, tongue sliding out to lick between never spoken words, the more he felt the pulling of longing in his gut travelling lower into his groin. Soon he felt like an awkward school boy hiding his erection with a textbook, until he remembered there was no one to hide it from. Zeller was sweaty and the room was too stuffy. He had to escape. He had to run.

___________

            Pounding, Pounding, the sound of his running shoes on the pavement was the only sound he could hear. A light breeze stirred the leaves but Zeller couldn’t hear the rustling over the pounding in his head. The breeze left its coolness on his damp, hot flesh. He’d long since lost track of the time, choosing to ignore the position of the sun, losing himself in the run. He found himself now in a familiar rhythm, pounding feet echoing in his head unable to block out his fantasies, instead mirroring them. He wonders how in the course of hours he has gone from remembering playful banter to having vivid fantasies about Jimmy Price. He had hoped running would help, but the rhythm only functioned to remind him of the rhythm of passionate, hard, fast sex, sex he wanted to have with Price. There was nothing to be done about the thoughts in his head. He ended his run and headed to the Bureau’s locker room to shower. He decided along the way to take the coldest shower his body could stand.

            Freezing water trailed over his naked flesh leaving lines in the sweat left from his run. He closed his eyes letting the water wash through his hair and over his firm body. The cold contrasted the heat of his flesh and settled him in a more relaxed state. As the calm settled into his sore muscles, which had carried him too far too fast in his haste to forget his longing, Zeller found his mind exploring possibilities. He couldn’t deny that the banter between Price and him often went beyond professional respect. Zeller had never known Price to mention a wife or any women friends. Zeller wondered if he took a leap if Jimmy would be the one to catch him.

            Sinking deeper into the cold flow, Zeller pushed those thoughts deep into untouched shadowy parts of his mind. This was his colleague and they were FBI. He couldn’t just give in to this longing and expect it to end well.

            However in his longing, Zeller found even in the cold of the shower his body still had a pressing need. Zeller, knowing he couldn’t give into his desires in any other way, elected to take this matter into his own hands. After checking that the locker room showers were otherwise empty, he grasped his erection along the shaft and began to stroke. His eyes slipped closed and he imagined Jimmy in the shower with him, Jimmy touching him everywhere, trailing finger tips over his wet flesh, drinking all of Zeller in with his vibrant blue eyes. Imaginary Jimmy brushed his light caresses over the head of Zeller’s cock and his release came all over his hand and washed away down the drain. He was finally calm and relaxed.

            The calm brought a sense of understanding and Zeller knew he had to talk his feelings for Price out with someone. And it couldn’t just be anyone. It had to be someone who knew them both personally, someone who could tell him he was crazy. It had to be Beverly. As he turned off the water and toweled his oversensitive flesh dry, he hoped that Beverly had ignored his orders to rest. She had been right yet again. He needed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of Hannibal season 1 Jimmy Price takes a two week vacation, leaving Zeller alone to sort out his confused feelings for the man. Will an accidentally sent test message confession change them for the worse or the better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written due to a sad lack of Zeller/Price fic by yours truly, Avery: Hannibals-chicken-soup.tumblr.com  
> Lovingly beta'ed and edited by Jimmy: greylightsopenwindows.tumblr.com

**Chapter 2**

            Zeller, freshly determined to figure his feelings out, hopefully with Beverly’s help, returned to the lab. He quickly emailed Crawford the results and progress of the day. The partial print belonged to the suspect and this was looking to be a pretty open and shut case. Not that long ago, right before everything fell apart for Will Graham, Zeller had found himself wishing for a case like this one. Funny that when he gets his wish it just leaves him bored.

            His cell phone is flashing tiny lights at him and he realizes he has missed more messages from Beverly. For once he was actually grateful that Beverly took work as seriously as he does. Her most recent text had been received only five minutes before. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘she didn’t listen to me again and she’s still not thinking.”

            Zeller grabs his jacket and keys and flips the light off on the way out of the lab. Better to text Beverly from home so she doesn’t feel the pull of the lab and drag her flu ridden body out of bed.      

            He is home in 15 minutes, having stayed late enough to miss the Baltimore rush hour, with some take out Chinese food. He eats on his couch with some random sci-fi movie he never heard of on his television, something about sharks and tornados. He’s not paying enough attention to know what else the movie is about, who is in it or even where or when it takes place.  He can’t be bothered to on put something better.

            He’s glad to be in the familiar surroundings of his comfortable middle class home. It makes him feel a little more grounded in his reality, if reality involves aliens, super heroes, and fantasy creatures. The house has layers much like him. He bought the house shortly after taking the job with Behavioral Sciences, not wanting to live in his bachelor pad apartment for the rest of his life. He wanted a home he could show off, that would should he was an adult man of some career standing. The house was modest in size, having only two bed rooms on its second floor, but was well furnished. Unlike his starkly naked office, many of the rooms in his house were full and decorated. Entering the house, there is a small hallway with a stairway to the second floor and doors leading off to a living room, kitchen, half bath, and room that is supposed to act as a dining room. Up the stairs are two bedrooms and a large full bathroom with both a shower and a claw foot bath tub.

            The first room off the hallway on the first floor is the living room. The room is the most like his office at work. It is clean and stark. It is designed to welcome guests he rarely has. The room is painted light blue with hardwood flooring and pale throw rugs. There is not a speck of dust or dirt in the room. The walls hold reproductions of famous landscape paintings and tasteful wall lighting. There are a few small book shelves that hold only classic literature, history, and medical books all stacked neatly. In the back corner of the room is a small bar, stock with top shelf spirits. Most are unopened. The couch and chairs in this room are stiff and uncomfortable. Zeller sometimes wonders if that’s how he is viewed at work, as being stiff and uncomfortable.

            Across from the living room is a small half bathroom, still mostly for show. It is the only room Zeller has not altered since moving in. It is pristine and lacks any personally touches. It is all green hand towels, scented pump hand soap, and caned air fresheners. The room is painted and tiled in pastel yellow. Zeller hates the color, but he had never felt the need to make the room feel more like him. He is content with it as long as it looks decent for the occasional guest. The upstairs bathroom, tiled entirely in aqua blue, with low lighting, is more to his style. It looks smells and feels like a man of his age and style lives there. It’s all American crew products, shaving kits, cologne, and musky scent. His bathroom reflected the part of himself that was vain and knew his level of attractiveness.

            The kitchen feels decidedly more Zeller-like. It’s painted red with black and white tiled floors. The appliances are all chrome and stainless steel. Counters, table and bar are all chrome with black top surfaces. Seating is all red bar stools. Walking into the room feels like walking into a retro dinner, and the food he sometimes gets around to cooking there is generally just about as healthy as one would serve. The walls sport vintage metal signs advertising coke, lucky strikes, and beer. He had been collecting this signs since he bought the house.  Zeller thought the room was the right level of vintage, whimsical about a simpler time Zeller himself is not old enough to have experienced.

            Zeller was currently in his favorite room in his house. It was probably supposed to function as a dining room, but he never saw much need for one since most of the people he brought home were met at bars and rarely stayed for breakfast. Even when he did occasionally invite Price and Beverly over after a case for dinner and drinks there was always enough room in his kitchen. He is the only person to ever be in this room, the den. It’s all hardwood ceiling to floor, dark cherry tones. Offsetting the dark wood are mounted and framed movie and comic book poster, each with its own spotlight. Here was a classic Batman poster, there a first printing Star Wars poster, over there a poster for the movie Brazil. Where posters weren’t big tall bookshelves lived, each full of books, comics, dvds, and collectables, all sci-fi, fantasy, superheroes. Never crime or horror, Zeller saw enough of that in his real life. Under the room’s only window was a free standing stereo with 5.1 surround sound, cd changer, and a record player. A shelf near it held a massive vinyl collection mostly of classic rock artists.

            This room was comfortable; all plush and soft leather chairs and couches all throw pillows and blankets with superhero motifs. This room deep inside his house clearly echoed the place deepest inside him where his little boy self still thrived, the part of him he only shared with himself. Sitting there alone on his couch, eating take out, he knew he wanted to let Price in this room, to let him see this vulnerable childlike part of him. He set his food aside and lay down in a nest of throw pillows wish it was a nest of Jimmy’s arms and legs. He took out his cell phone and texted Bev, realizing that in doing so he was letting her into his life too.

            ‘Hey, are you still awake?’

            ‘Yeah.’

            ‘I need to talk about something.’ He was typing fast, not paying attention to what buttons he was hitting, typing by memory.

            ‘Is it work? Did you find something strange, or that you can’t handle? Do you need me to come in to the lab?’ Zeller chuckled. He had known this was how she would react.

            ‘Are you that bored? I’m not at the lab. This is something a lot more personal.’ Zeller felt a pit of nervousness in his stomach. He’s never let his personal life interfere with his work and as much as he enjoys Bev’s company he had never confided in her.

            ‘Personal? From you, Zeller? This I gotta hear! Want me to come over?’ Zeller panicked. He never considered that she might want to come to his house and help him in person. He knew he’d lose his nerve if he had to speak his feelings about Price out loud even if it was just to Beverly.

            ‘No. I don’t think I can do this in person, Bev.’

            ‘Brian, please, if you are about to confess your love for me, don’t’

            ‘ _Please tell me she’s joking_ ,’ Zeller thought, ‘ _let her be joking._ ’

            ‘Not for you, Bev, for someone else. And I don’t know how to handle it.’ Zeller couldn’t believe he was really about to do this, really about to open himself up to trusting this other person. He strived to keep his professional relationships mostly professional yet all at once that was changing. Maybe he couldn’t let himself have Price, but at least he could have a friendship with Bev, a woman he truly admired.

            ‘Does this mystery someone know?’

            ‘No!!!!!! And they just can’t know. Can’t!’

            ‘Ok, I’m going to ignore the they for now. What can you tell me? It’s going to be hard to help if you tell me nothing.’

            Zeller took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. He knew he was standing on a cliff’s edge, about to leap, about to put his feelings for Jimmy Price into words for the first time. ‘Bev, I’m serious. This has to stay between you and I. No one can know. No one!’   

            ‘Of course, Brian. Who would I even tell?’

            Zeller’s hands had gotten kind of sweaty and his cell phone slips through his fingers. He scrambles to catch it before it hits the floor. He catches it between his middle and index fingers. He takes a deep breath closes his eyes briefly, reopens them and types his message to Beverly.

            ‘I realized today that I have some kind of feelings for Price. I even found myself missing him.’ Zeller pushed the send button and looked at his phone screen as the message sent. He was struck by a feeling a sheer horror. Why did the ‘sent to:’ space on the text have two names? Why was the second name Price’s? The realization hit Zeller in his gut, he must have hit group texting when he caught the phone on its tumble. Beverly and Price would be the first two people in his phone. He had just sent his confession to not just Beverly, but also to the one person he was not ready to tell, Jimmy Price. ‘Shit, Bev, I dropped my phone and just accidentally sent that text to both you and Price.’ Zeller was mortified. Beverly took a few minutes to respond.

            ‘First, it’s about damn time. Second, I’m coming over before you have a panic attack.’ 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning guys. This chapter is as of now unbetaed. I'm so sorry for any mistakes. I suck at editing my own stuff.

     Thirty minutes would pass before Zeller heard his doorbell chime and echo through his house. He hadn’t passed the time productively. He instead spent it staring at his silent phone wondering if Price would even respond to the accidentally sent text. He knew he should be making sure he had refreshments for his impromptu guest, but he didn’t much care to drag himself off the couch. Frankly it was a miracle he even got up to answer the door when Beverly arrived.  
When he opened his door he understood why it had taken Beverly thirty minute to make the usually ten minute drive; she only lived a few miles away. She had come prepared with a brown sack of what smelled like fried take out and a six pack of beer. She held the beer up for him to take, “A little something to take the edge off, Brain?”  
     “Thanks, Bev, I think I need it” Zeller took the beer and motioned her into the hallway. He held the bag of food while she took off her jacket. The weather had turned nice and warm, but the spring nights still held a chill in them. Beverly traded her jacket for the food, and Zeller neatly hung it from a nearby coat rack.  
     “Brian, you are as neat and tidy as always. If you ever come to my place, I fear you’d be mortified. It’s all clutter.” She was heading through the doorway to the fancy living room.  
     “Bev, let’s sit somewhere a bit more comfortable tonight. I’m not really interested in all this keeping up appearances bullshit anymore.” He thought he saw q shocked look cross her features as she followed him further down the hall, but it passed before he could be sure.  
     On the way through the kitchen, Zeller stored the beer in the fridge, grabbing one for each of them. They entered his den, and the shocked look passed back over Beverly’s face. “Full of surprises tonight, aren’t we, Brian?” Zeller could hear the amusement in Beverly’s voice, “who would have thought I’d be the one to break through the cool exterior of yours, and all because you are finally willing to admit you have feelings for Jimmy.” She set her bag of food down on the coffee table and circled the room stopping now and then to look at this thing or that thing.  
     Zeller was finding himself more and more confused every minute. His text inbox was still empty and here was Beverly, acting amused but not really surprised that he wasn’t exactly who he seemed to be at work. A weak “Huh?” was all the response to this he could muster.  
     Beverly looked at him over the pages of a copy of Ender’s Game she was paging through and smiled, “Did you really think Jimmy and I really believed this stiff façade you present? People who act as defensive and egotistical as you do when your opinion is second guessed, when you are questioned, and when you are proved wrong are generally the most vulnerable, wounded, and closed off about who they really are and what they really feel. I bet you got through high school on your good looks but only until people found out you were smart and had hobbies that leaned toward the nerdy. Then your good looks weren’t enough to coast under the radar and you closed yourself away to keep your feeling safe. Be safety makes it difficult to have strong feelings.” Beverly plopped on his couch and opened her beer, taking a sizable swallow. “I brought foods that are all greasy and fried. Help yourself.” She opened the brown sack and pulled out a container of fries covered in bacon and cheddar, a container of various fried veggies most of which looked like mushrooms, green beans, and zucchini, and a container of nachos piled so high with meat, beans, cheese, salsa, and sour cream the chips were barely visible. “There’s nothing better than beer and terrible food when your brain and body starts feeling everything all at once for the first time in years.”  
     “It would have been nice for someone to be there for Graham like this. Maybe things would have turned out differently.”  
     “I tried to be there for him but he wouldn’t let me in. Once he asked me if anyone would know if I wasn’t ok and I told him no they wouldn’t but that I would tell someone if I weren’t. I wish he would have told us he wasn’t ok. Any of this sound familiar, Brian?”  
     “Fuck! Don’t compare me to him right now. I’m never going to reach that breaking point. I’m letting you in. I’m telling you that right now I’m not ok.”  
     “Jimmy and I thought this was happening in the fall, you opening up. You started seeming to want to do it. You started showing an interest in letting us in. Then a switch flipped and professional Zeller was back with us again.”  
     “I made a mistake. I trusted the wrong person. I had to make up for it, so I threw myself back into work.”  
     “Jimmy and I worry about you. We talk about you way more then we really should, out of concern, never spite.”  
     Zeller downed a swallow of beer. “I don’t know what to do about that text, Beverly. I hoped he’d text me back all banter and jokes or something. Maybe I’ve… I don’t know. Maybe it’s just broken.”  
     “Brian, I can’t tell you how Jimmy might feel in return. He’s never talked quite that way and even if he had I’d never betray his trust. But I do know what my eyes see when I look at the two of you every day. I meant it when I said ‘It’s about damn time.’ I’ve never met two people more meant to be together. But that being said, Jimmy isn’t here right now; we can’t know how he is feeling about all this. He’s in Greece and we don’t even know if he received the text message. All we can do is wait and focus on what you are feeling. And for god sakes: EAT!”  
     Zeller stood, grabbing his empty bottle, “I’m going to grab utensils and stuff, then we can talk more and eat easier. Want a second beer while I’m up?”  
     “Sure. Thanks.”  
     When he returned from the kitchen with two fresh beers, plates, napkins, and forks, Beverly was up looking over his stuff again. She had turned off the TV and placed a record on the turntable. The speakers played The Doors at low volume, “People are Strange” to be exact. Zeller handed her a beer, “You really are a big Jim Morrison fan aren’t you, Bev?”  
     “Yeah, it’s something about drunken poets. They draw me. Not such a great thing when I’m dating though.” Bev smiled and laughed. “Hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of putting some music on?”  
     “Not at all. I generally don’t get to share my collection.”  
     “Well it’s amazing. You should share it more. You should invite Jimmy here when he gets back. He would adore your collection. I love that you still collect vinyl.”  
     “You know I think I’ll do that. Even if he didn’t receive that text, I’ve resolved to open up to him. And you too, but that’s different.”  
     “Of course, I’m your friend. And the outcome you are hopping for Jimmy and you is that he ends up in not just your heart but also your pants.”  
Zeller laughed and blushed, “So blunt, Bev.” If he had been drinking he’d have choked on his beer. But she had called herself his friend and that felt really nice.  
     “So, Brian, do you want to tell me who you mistrusted, who left you this broken?”  
                                                                                          

* * *

  
     His phone alarm was going off. He was in his bed which was good. He picked up his phone to turn off the alarm. 7am, almost 12 hours after the accidental text and still his inbox was empty. No matter, it was a new day and he was a new man. He would make sure this all worked out in the end if he could only last out the week and a half until Price returned from the Greek Isles.  
      Zeller took a shower, letting the warm water ease the stiffness from his muscles, and brushed the last of the beer taste from his teeth. He dressed for work and headed downstairs. It smelled of coffee and bacon.  
     There was a note taped to his microwave:  
                      Brian,  
                         Thanks for letting my crash on our couch when it get too late. I took off to get ready for work, but I took the liberty of making us breakfast. Your share of                                the bacon and eggs are in the microwave. There’s coffee too. See you at work.  
                                                                                                                                   Bev  
                         P.S. Don’t keep beating yourself up for your mistakes. We have all slept with someone we regret once or twice in our lives, but don’t let it keep you from                                         being happy with some new. You won’t regret it this time.

     Zeller grabbed the eggs, which were soft and fluffy, and the bacon, which was crisp, and ate quickly. He was already running late and he knew he would hit the last remnants of rush hour traffic. He poured his coffee into an insulated mug, adding cream and sugar, and left for work, double checking the locks behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where people break into other people's homes and make out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG it's been forever since i updated this. Will any one even read this? it's only a short chapter I found already written up and ready to post. Still unbetaed

It was almost midnight when Zeller arrived back home. After working until well past 8pm, he just hadn’t wanted to return to his dark empty house, not when he still hadn’t heard a word from Jimmy Price. A local bar welcomed him with its dark corners, surly bar keeps, and acidic odors but the seedy comforts of familiarity actually offered no relief. After a greasy meal and a few beers, it was his darkened windows that welcomed him home. After parking his car he walked to his front door, with a growing feeling that there was something wrong. There was no satisfying click as he slid his key into the lock. The door was already unlocked. Sure he locked his door when he hastily left that morning, he quickly called Bev and left her a voicemail in case something happened to him. A good agent always calls for backup.

He drew his weapon and entered the house, thankful for years of FBI training. He checked the main hall: empty and seemingly undisturbed; stairs: shadowy but empty; living room: empty; upstairs: all clear; kitchen: empty but still smelling faintly of breakfast. The light was on in the den and Zeller was as sure that he had turned the light off as he was that he had locked the front door. He peeked around the door frame, gun first. At first nothing seemed disturbed, but Zeller could almost feel someone’s presence. Then he saw it, the jacket tossed over his arm chair and the suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor. Zeller was wondering if the suitcase was loaded with his valuables when he saw movement on the couch. A human figure lay there under a light blanket. The figure’s shoe’s had been removed and were sitting neatly on the floor by the couch.   
‘What kind of criminal takes a nap in his victim's house?’ Zeller thought, wondering if this figure was some new serial murderer who lived the lives of the people killed. The figure sure did look comfortable. Zeller crept to the edge of the couch and pressed the barrel of the gun as close to the figure’s head as he could reach. He shouted, “ What are you doing in my house? I warn you I have a gun.”

A familiar voice responded groggily, “God Brian, if i had known you wanted to play cops and robbers I’d have stopped home to get my handcuffs.”

Zeller’s gun arm relaxed slightly, “Jimmy? ...I… What? …. How?” All he could do was stammer as Price gazed up at him from the couch. 

“Brian, if you would be so kind as to lower your weapon, I could answer all of those questions and so many more.” Zeller lowered and set his gun down as Price rose from the couch and crossed the space between them. “After I got this very strange text from you, the beautiful Greek Isles lost all their appeal and i got the first flight back. As for how I am in your house, you really need to invest in some locks that are a bit more difficult to pick.” Price had finished crossing the space and was standing very close. Zeller could feel his heartbeat speeding up. “Also I told you…” Before Price could finish Zeller made his move, pressing his lips awkwardly on the older man’s. Price had surprisingly soft lips and he tasted of menthol. 

Zeller felt Price’s fingers in his hair as the older man responded, deepening their kiss, running his tongue across Zeller’s lips, as if asking permission to enter. Zeller obliged, allowing the older man’s tongue entrance to his mouth when he hear a small cough behind them. They broken off their kiss and turned to find Beverly bemusedly watching them. 

“I see you burglar has stolen your heart, Brian. Next time don’t call me out of bed at midnight just to watch you make out.”

“Sorry , Bev,” They chimed together, in sing-song.

“Just glad I didn’t find you dead. Just don’t invite me next go around. I’m going back home to bed.”

“You could just sleep here.”

“What and listen to the mating ritual of you lovebirds all night? I’ll pass.”

Things get steamy in the next chapter


End file.
